


water like misery

by xombiebean



Series: rain on me [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Body Horror, Bottom Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Choking, Discussion of Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, Outdoor Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rough Sex, Top Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25378045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xombiebean/pseuds/xombiebean
Summary: “My darling,” Joe says, and there is a world in those words.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: rain on me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854460
Comments: 21
Kudos: 612





	water like misery

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted to write porn about joe wearing a baseball hat backwards and fucking nicky till he cried, but then nicky had ptsd and cried and then joe fucked him. anyways, it's been a while since i wrote anything, but can i get a hell yeah for the old guard. 
> 
> this is based on the movie because i haven't read the comic (yet).
> 
> in case you're wondering about where this is set--the answer is in one of their safe houses, somewhere out in europe, in the middle of nowhere, where no one can hear them fucking outside.
> 
> title from "rain on me" by lady gaga feat. ariana grande.

Nicky’s sure that Joe’s doing it on purpose. He’s got his baseball hat on backwards and his shirt off, his torso gleaming with sweat. His breathing is harsh and uneven, labored, as he works out. Push ups, sit ups, planks--it’s an onslaught, and Nicky is only so strong. He’s never been particularly good at resisting temptation, and when it comes to Joe, he doesn’t have to. At least, not usually.

Joe switches to pull ups, his back to Nicky, so that Nicky can see the muscles working as Joe lifts himself up. He grunts as he moves through reps. Desire pools in Nicky’s stomach, and it makes him feel sick with guilt.

He’s _trying_ to meditate, because there is something important that he must decide. His mind has been loud lately, a number of fears and concerns racing through it, keeping him up at night, distracting him from the world around him. Merrick was only the beginning, and some nights he wakes up screaming, convinced he’s still in the lab, still strapped to the table, while a scientist carves chunks out of them. Some nights it’s Joe getting butchered, some nights it’s Booker, some nights it’s Andy, some nights it’s Nile. Nicky’s mind cycles through all of them, like a sick carousel. Last night, he’d dreamed that they were plucking his eyes out, and he could somehow still see them examining his optic nerve, watching them through his bloody sockets. Joe had shaken him awake, and Nicky had choked him. His hands tight on Joe’s throat, squeezing the life out of him, until he’d come back to himself and let go, scrambling away from the love of his life.

It’s not the first time they’ve hurt each other, and it won’t be the last. They’ve both seen--and felt--too much combat to ever function fully normally again. “It’s all right,” Joe had murmured over and over again, in English, in Italian, in Dutch, in a half-dozen languages, soothing him with his voice and his hands, holding him close, while Nicky pressed his face to his chest, apologizing over and over, his eyes wet, his heart erratic. Joe had dozed off after that, but Nicky hadn’t. As soon as Joe’s breathing had evened out, Nicky had eased himself out of bed and made himself tea before walking out into their backyard, sitting on the ground, and watching the sun rise.

Joe had come out when the sun was high in the sky, and Nicky felt like he turned to stone beneath the weight of the sun. 

He has a choice. He knows this. He can stay or he can go, but he doesn’t know if he can take the crushing emptiness of being away from the other half of his soul. 

Joe drops to the ground with a final groan and comes over. He presses a kiss against his lips, and Nicky can’t help it--he flinches away. “My darling,” Joe says, and there is a world in those words.

“Don’t,” Nicky says, and presses his lips together. “I’m fine,” he says, even though he can feel the heat rising, tears threatening to prick his eyes. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Joe says, and his tone might be accusatory, but his hands are gentle when he cups Nicky’s face and tilts it back so that Nicky’s looking at him, so that he can’t look away. Joe’s leaning over him, blocking out the sun, and Nicky’s heart feels so heavy and so full. “I can see it in your eyes. And the shadows beneath them are worse than they’ve been in years.”

A sob tries to rise up out of Nicky’s throat, but he strangles it somehow, forces it back down. “I’m fine,” he says, his voice even despite the odds.

“You stubborn asshole,” Joe says.

“I’m fine,” Nicky says again, and the third time’s supposed to be the charm, but it doesn’t seem to work on Joe. Joe’s always known him too well for that.

“If you leave me,” Joe says, “I will never forgive you.”

“You’re not safe,” Nicky says. “What if I--what if--and it’s your last time? I cannot, Yusuf. I cannot be the end of you. It will destroy me.”

Joe growls and drops to his knees in front of him. “You beautiful fool. You--” He grabs Nicky’s hand, pressing it to his chest, so that he can feel Joe’s heart beating steady and strong. “You are my heart, you absolute bastard. If you leave to protect me, you may as well have killed me. Do you understand? Do not steal the color from my world; do not pluck the sun from my sky.”

Tears fall from Nicky’s eyes, and he brushes them away angrily. “Habibi, please, I--”

“What must I do to convince you?” Joe demands. “Where will you go? How long will be enough? How long will you wander the earth, trying to absolve yourself of something that hasn’t happened?”

Joe is beautiful in his rage; the fire in his voice is stunning, and Nicky can’t help himself: he bridges the gap and kisses him. “I love you,” he says, and it’s barely intelligible, but they’ve known each other for so long that Joe knows exactly what he’s saying.

“I know,” Joe says. “I know, you fucking idiot.” 

Nicky sobs, and Joe pushes him down. His back hits the dirt, and Joe’s a heavy, solid weight on top of him, anchoring to the earth, anchoring him to the now. “I love you,” Nicky says again. 

Joe kisses him roughly, biting at his bottom lip. He controls the pace of the kiss, the intensity, but it isn’t enough.

“I need you,” Nicky says. “I need you inside me, Yusuf, please, _now_.”

They tear at each other’s clothes, stripping beneath the sun, beneath the sky, beneath the weight of Nicky’s guilt. Joe shoves at him, flipping him over, face first into the earth and the grass. Nicky scrambles to get his knees under himself, desperate for him, for _this_. Joe helps, gets an arm under Nicky’s belly, and hitches his hips up.

“Come on,” Nicky says. “Come on, come on, come on, come on.”

Joe spits on his hole. Nicky can feel it, wet and tacky and filthy. The anticipation is making him fly out of his skin, and everything narrows down to Joe’s thumbs on the edges of his hole as he spreads him open and spits again. A shudder rips through him.

“Should’ve had you suck me before this, huh?” Joe says, and Nicky’s not sure what he even says in response, because his world is Joe, his world is this moment. He can hear Joe spitting into his hand and rubbing it onto his cock, and then he feels the blunt pressure at his entrance. It hurts, and yet it feels so good. It is everything. Joe doesn’t give him time to adjust, to breathe, and it’s exactly how Nicky wants it, exactly what he would’ve asked for if he could have found the words. He presses inside, steady, steady, steady, until he bottoms out. Nicky can feel him in his guts, can feel him in his throat, and maybe he doesn’t need to meditate. Maybe all he needs is this.

Joe sets an absolutely brutal pace, punching moans and gasps and whimpers out of Nicky, driving him out of his head. Nicky could worm a hand down to his dick and come now, but coming almost feels besides the point. There is fire surging in his veins, and the darkness in his mind has been banished back to its corners. Joe gets an arm under his chest, and hauls him back. He can’t fuck him as deep upright like this, but then Joe wraps his hand around his throat, and it’s worth it. He doesn’t squeeze, not yet. Their eyes meet, and Nicky tilts his head back so that he can kiss him. There’s a question in Joe’s eyes, and he doesn’t need to say it, because Nicky can already imagine it, can hear it echoing in his head. Joe presses down, carefully constricting his airflow. As his head starts buzzing, his vision swimming, Joe takes Nick’s hand and wraps it around his cock, guiding him, jerking him off together, until his lungs are spasming, and he’s coming. It feels like coming back to life.

Joe lets go of his throat, and as the air rushes back in, he feels him come, feels him empty into him. Nicky loses seconds, and when he comes back to himself, they’re lying on their sides, Joe spooned against his back, his softened cock still in him. Joe’s rubbing his chest absently, the repetitive gesture soothing, reassuring. He can feel the change in Nicky almost immediately, knows the moment the fog clears from his head.

Nicky winces as Joe pulls out. “Sh, shh,” Joe murmurs, soothing him. Nicky rolls over and rests his head against his chest, playing with his chest hair absentmindedly. Joe’s hat has disappeared somewhere, and his hair is wild. “Still thinking about leaving?” Joe asks, and Nicky can’t help the wild laugh that bubbles out of him.

“I think you fucked it out of me,” he says wryly.

“Good,” Joe says. He groans as he stretches and his back cracks. “I’m too old to fuck outside, Nicky,” he whines. “Why do you make me do this?”

Nicky snorts.

“Hey,” Joe says, and Nicky glances up at him. “What I said earlier--I meant it. Don’t go where I can’t follow, Nicky. Not even in that head of yours.”

“I love you,” Nicky says.

“I love you, too. You’re gonna have to carry me in, you know. I’m not sure if I can walk.”

“Mmm,” Nicky hums.

In a moment, they’ll get up and take a shower and kiss under the hot water. Later Nicky will sink to his knees and suck Joe off, and then maybe breakfast will happen. They do not have eternity, but they have now. It might not be enough, but the sun is warm, and the hurt in his head has disappeared for now, and Joe is a solid weight beneath him.


End file.
